Going through my father’s stuff has been a rollercoaster ride, to say the least. I’ve spent a lot of time mulling over pictures of my father posing with friends (mostly I can identify them but there are some head scratchers) and suddenly I come across a picture of my father and myself. At 21, I’m scared shitless because I’m hours away from taking my first ever flight. To London. First time away. I’m looking to the sky, mugging/not really mugging, as my head rests upon my father’s chest. His chin is back and he’s looking down at me as if to say “Get the hell off me”.

Bless him!

The Bag mystery has been somewhat decoded. Brother Dan came to me while he was going through photos too and found a picture of a blond man sitting in a smartly decorated room. On the back was written “Johnathan” in Da’s hand. Dan asked me who this good looking man was. I started to explain:

“That was Johnathan. He was a retail manager for the Polo/Ralph Lauren Yorkville store back in the 80s. I’m not sure how Da and he met but they were good friends. Johnathan was Dad’s first friend to die of AIDS…” and I trail off, diving into the pool of memory.

Of course! The contents of The Bag was mostly Johnathan’s! I remembered a story Dad told me of having to go into Johnathan’s apartment to remove some of the more racier things before family came into the apartment. Dad must have kept most of it for himself.

It doesn’t explain the slight, but still quite noticeable odour of pot that permeates from The Bag when you open it. At 78, however, I don’t think he’s pulling a Mrs Madrigal, but there it is, none the less.

A new mystery has arose since The Bag came into the light. Deep within Da’s photos, he has about 30 pictures taken from a Kodak110 camera from his buying trip around the world, an extended business trip he took in the very early 80s to go to various fashion outlets to see what was new and then taking those ideas to factories in Asia. Yay captialism! The pictures are all of monuments and travel icons but with no people in them – Da was alone on the trip. However, in Paris, there is one picture of him at an outdoor cafe, a beer sits near him, he stares back at the camera with the light in his eyes. Who took it? A sympathetic waiter? A fellow traveller he struck up a conversation with?

Billy - Click to Enlarge

Two pictures after that I come across a strikingly handsome man. Strikingly handsome. Like, “whoa, Dad! Please let him be my new mom!” handsome. Who is he? Dad never mentioned him. On the back Da has wrote:  “Billy – Florence 1982”. I show the picture around the family. Dan being closer to Da’s homosexuality around that time (moreso than I was – I hadn’t come out yet) didn’t recall any stories from Dad regarding European romps from Dad’s trip. This “Billy” is…

He’s…?

Okay here’s the crazy part.

He is someone my father met (and I have a solid gut feeling about this) and fell in love with instantly. There’s only one picture of this mystery man, but I have a feeling that any more pictures of Billy would have sent up alarms regarding my father’s homosexuality. Which is probably why there isn’t any more – “Oh some guy I met at the hotel bar…” etc. One would have to do. The fact that this is the only “human” shot in the pack, other than the cafe shot of himself, suggest to me some sort of reverence. Some importance. “Billy’s” half turn and relaxed manner suggests that there was more than just a “Vi prego diretto alla discoteca”

Of course I’m speculating wildly here. For all I know this could be the taxi driver Da snapped between a hotel and airport. Or tour guide. Or he’s a business contact. But I’m finding some odd comfort in knowing that Dad had met someone that he shared a meaningful, relaxed moment with on that long lonely trip across the world.

That, or he got laid.